Good Students Deserve Rewards
by Comfster
Summary: Kurt helps Sam with his English homework, and Sam gives him a little something in return as a thank you.


_**Good Students Deserve Rewards**_

**Pairing: **Kum.

**Warnings: **Established relationship, sex in a public place, explicit slash, PWP basically.

**Disclaimer: **I am in no way affiliated with Fox. These characters aren't mine, I am obviously not doing this for moolah.

**Summary: **Kurt helps Sam with his English homework, and Sam gives him a little something in return as a thank you.

**Notes: **I know that Kurt helping Sam with his homework is probably not unique in the slightest, but eh, I still love the idea and wanted to do it anyway!

Is it awkward that I listened to When I Get You Alone the majority of the time I was writing this…?

Enjoy!

**##**

There are a lot of reasons why he likes Kurt.

He likes the way Kurt dresses. He likes how Kurt sings. He likes his airy little laugh when he's happy and his bitchy demeanor when he's pissed off. He likes the way Kurt struts down the hallways, practically dragging him along to science class, nose up, hand soft and warm in his own. He likes it when Kurt agrees to wear his letterman jacket even though he complains that it doesn't get washed nearly enough and that it makes him look fat. He likes it when Kurt takes the time to whisper in his ear, telling him that he's beautiful, especially on the days when he doesn't feel like it at all. He likes it when Mr. Schuester assigns something new for the week and Kurt hustles over to him, already with a song in mind and plans for their outfits.

But one of the most important reasons to him, despite how simple it may be, is the fact that Kurt never laughs at him when Sam hesitantly approaches him after school in the library, a rough draft in his hand and his cheeks pink, asking if Kurt has the time to proofread his paper. Sam's so embarrassed of his atrocious spelling; it's not like it's something he can really control, but he knows how much Kurt's into things like literature and grammar and other stuff that Sam can't really be bothered with because it's too much of a hassle with his dyslexia.

"As if you have to ask," Kurt huffs, taking Sam's paper from his hands before he sets to work. To an outsider, Kurt might seem a little frustrated, but Sam knows better. He can see the gentle smirk on Kurt's face as he leans over the paper, drawing the little heart in the corner like he always does before he actually reads the essay itself.

Kurt never uses red ink because he thinks it looks a little too obtrusive and harsh whenever he hands back the paper. Instead, he uses Sam's favorite color—sky blue. He had to buy a special pen and everything for it, but Kurt doesn't mind in the slightest. He puts a small circle around every misspelled word and writes the correct spelling in the margins so Sam can go back and correct it. If a sentence sounds a little awkward, Kurt writes out a couple of helpful suggestions. On the very last page when he's done looking over the entire paper, he always writes:

_I love you, Sam. –Kurt_

When Kurt hands the paper back, that's the first thing that Sam looks for, and each time it makes him smile.

Kurt's got bright smile on his face. "You're really improving," he tells Sam softly, leaning in close to brush his lips gently against Sam's cheek. "You're going to get an A on that paper, I just know it."

"You think so?" Sam asks in a small voice, color rising up in his face. He's gotten plenty of B pluses on his papers, but never an A. He wants one; not just to make Kurt proud, although that's a big part, but he wants it for himself because he _knows_ he can do it.

"I do," Kurt says, squeezing Sam's thigh tenderly beneath the table, loving the way Sam flushes and releases a muffled little sigh into the palm of his hand.

Sam brings his head to the crook of Kurt's neck and inhales his scent before he places a kiss on the sensitive skin there. He knows people are watching, but he gave up caring about that a long time ago. Let them watch, just as long as they didn't stare too long at Kurt, Sam's cool with it. "Guess I'll have to make it up to you tonight," he tells Kurt, pressing quick kisses to his neck in between every couple of words.

Kurt leans into Sam's lips, his eyes rolling a bit in their sockets at the mere prospect of the things they could do tonight. "After you finish your essay," Kurt says in a dazed sort of voice, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Wha—? But but…why do we have to wait?" Sam asks, lightly nibbling Kurt's earlobe. Kurt always wants them to finish their homework before they have the _real _fun, and it nearly kills Sam each and every time. Just once he wants one day where he doesn't have to wait to get what he wants.

"Because you and I both know that you won't finish it otherwise," Kurt tells him pointedly, looking at Sam directly in the eyes. Whenever they start, Sam never wants to stop; he insists that he could go all night long since he needs to put his raging teenage hormones to good use. "It won't take you that long, honestly."

Sam rolls his eyes, slouches back into his chair, and runs his hands through his hair. "It'll feel like forever, though, being apart from you," he admits in a hushed voice so only Kurt can hear his words.

This isn't the first time that Sam starts to whine, trying to get what he wants. Sometimes it even works, but most of the time Kurt's strong enough to say no, and today, he's not going to give in no matter how pouty Sam's lips are. "Maybe you should get started on it now, then?" Kurt suggests in a teasing voice, running one fingertip up Sam's leg from kneecap to his hipbone that makes Sam shiver beneath him.

He leans in close, pushes back Kurt's bangs so that Sam can look into his pretty eyes as his hand travels down Kurt's side, stopping at his belt to give it a little tug. "Please?" Sam nearly begs, his eyes wide.

Kurt's pink lips separate for a moment, the column of his neck slightly curved as he releases a low shutter. "No," Kurt says once his mind is no longer hazy. "The sooner you finish, the sooner we can get out of here and actually _do _what you want."

Sam groans and gets up from the little table, grabbing his rough draft in the process. "You're such a cockblock, you know that?" Sam says jokingly, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend briefly on the lips before he trundles on over to a computer again to finish up his paper.

##

"You really shouldn't drive so fast, Sam," Kurt says mischievously when Sam pulls into his subdivision and speeds down the road, dodging the cars that are parked on the side of the street.

Sam glares at him from the corner of his eyes before he makes a sharp right turn. "Shush," he says, zooming down his street before he pulls into his driveway. His parking job is atrocious; his car is damn near diagonal and is almost taking up the whole driveway, but he doesn't care.

"Doesn't your mom like you to park on the side?" Kurt asks, trying hard not to laugh as Sam all but slams his gear into park.

"I'll move it before she gets home," Sam tells him, opening up his door before he runs to the passenger's side to help Kurt out. He grabs Kurt's hand and practically yanks him up and into his house, and Kurt's laughing hysterically.

He's thankful that his bedroom is just down the hallway. Once they're inside, he closes his door and turns the lock. Kurt's standing in the middle of his room, face red with laughter, his eyes watering some. "You won't be laughing in a second," Sam promises before he scoops Kurt up into his arms and lowers him onto his bed.

"You think you got us here fast enough?" Kurt asks, wrapping his hand around the back of Sam's neck to pull him close.

Sam scowls at Kurt before he runs his fingertips down Kurt's lithe frame, and Kurt immediately leans up into his touch. "Well, now that we're here and now that I have you, I suppose I can just…take my time," Sam muses, looking down at Kurt with dark eyes. "I can tease you like you teased me."

Kurt's whole body stills at those words. "What?"

He brings his head close to Kurt's ear and whispers, "You heard me." Sam then swipes his tongue along the sensitive lobe as he tosses one leg over Kurt's hips, straddling him at the waist.

Kurt whimpers a bit beneath him, but he puts up absolutely no protest since he knows better than that. Sam blows hot breath onto Kurt's exposed collarbone before he slowly begins to undo the buttons of Kurt's shirt. He never takes this long; when they were still a new couple, Sam actually ripped off some of his shirts and Kurt had to remember to wear ones he could do without whenever they were together until Sam could control himself. Now it's like Sam has the patience of a saint, and it's driving Kurt absolutely crazy.

"It doesn't take a minute to undo a button!" Kurt snaps, his hand reaching for his shirt but Sam swats it away. Kurt whines and falls back down onto the bed dramatically. Sam's only opened two of his buttons, and instead of undoing the rest, Sam takes to placing gentle kisses across Kurt's exposed upper chest. "You're torturing me," he whines.

"No, I'm not," Sam mutters against Kurt's skin before he pops open another button, pressing his lips to Kurt again. His kisses are so soft that Kurt almost doesn't feel them, but they leave a lingering warmth on his flesh that shoots tingles up his spine. "I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

Kurt arches his back up and laces his fingers in Sam's fading yellow hair. "_Please_," Kurt moans, his voice low as if it edged its way up his body from the tips of his toes. His shirt is only open to his belly-button and he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

As Sam slides down Kurt's body, he can feel Kurt's cock pressing against him, steadily growing stiffer. It's such a hot feeling to him—Kurt hard beneath him—and it turns Sam on immediately each time without fail. He starts to undo the buttons a little faster now that he is experiencing extreme need as well, and after swiping his tongue along Kurt's lower stomach just above the waistband of his trousers, Sam pulls Kurt's shirt off completely and tosses it over his shoulder.

Kurt expects Sam to remove his pants next, but he shimmies down and takes off his shoes one at a time, and then his socks. Sam runs his fingertips along the smooth tops of Kurt's feet until he reaches under, giving the pads a quick tickle, earning him a playful kick.

"Take off my pants, or I'm leaving," Kurt threatens, propping himself up on his elbows. He doesn't look serious at all, and there's a frantic sort of tone in his voice, so Sam smirks widely and finally gives in.

He reaches up and languidly opens up the front of his pants. Sam brings his nose close to the porcelain skin of Kurt's lower abdomen, breathing in his musky scent that Sam knows he'll never be able to get enough of. Sam takes hold of Kurt's pants and tugs them downwards until they're finally completely off, jumbled on the floor beside Kurt's forgotten shirt.

Sam leans back on the balls of his feet to appreciate the sight before him. He's seen Kurt naked before plenty of times; in sexy little outfits that Kurt's picked out, half-dressed, even in Sam's own clothes before he dirties them up from coming violently, his whole body shaking. But this is a little different. It's not every day that Kurt's splayed out on his bed, his whole body flushed with want, worrying his lower lip with his teeth in anticipation, his chest rising and falling with his staccato breathing, and his boxer-briefs so tight around his cock that it leaves nothing to the imagination.

"_Please_," Kurt repeats, his voice even lower this time, softer.

When Sam pulls himself up from the bed, Kurt is nearly in tears. "Keep your pants on," he says, but when it dawns on him a second later that Kurt's not wearing any, he chuckles. "I mean…well, you know what I mean." Sam pops open his button, pulls down his zipper, and steps off his blue jeans and then his shirt. Leaving his boxers still on, he climbs back into bed and grinds his body against Kurt's, his cock rubbing over the length of Kurt's, causing delicious friction and drawing out two deep moans.

Sam reaches down to squeeze one of Kurt's milky thighs before he runs his lips and then his tongue along the heated flesh. He drags his fingernails along the soft skin before he finally settles himself between Kurt's legs. Sam hooks his fingers under the waistband of Kurt's briefs and looks up at his boyfriend. "Tell me how much you want this."

Kurt sits up, wraps his hand around Sam's neck and pulls him into a kiss. He drags his tongue across Sam's lower lip before he plunges into Sam's warm mouth, loving how he can feel the moan Sam releases. "I want this," Kurt tells him in a rough voice that still manages to sound coy. "I want _you_."

And this time, instead of teasing Kurt, Sam complies. He pulls Kurt's briefs down quickly to just above his kneecaps, not even bothering with taking them off completely because he's just as worked up as Kurt is now. Kurt's cock is heavy and hard, rested against his lower abdomen, the head reddened. Sam spits into his palm before he wraps his fingers around Kurt's cock at the base and strokes upwards, producing a little breathless whine from Kurt's open mouth. Sam lets his tongue linger over Kurt's aching head, licking up the small amount of liquid that pooled there before he draws it into his mouth.

"_Fuck_…" Kurt groans, balling Sam's sheets in his fists, digging his head into his pillow as his hips thrust up. He's already so close; damn Sam to hell for teasing him so long that he's virtually unable to last long at all.

Kurt's thighs start to quiver around his face, and Sam shoves his hand into his own boxers, pulling on his cock in quick, shallow strokes. Sam hollows out his cheeks, his lips enveloping Kurt to the root, lapping his way up the underside of Kurt's cock. He feels Kurt's whole body tense, stiff as a board beneath him and Kurt comes in hot, milky splashes down Sam's dry throat.

The residual feeling of Kurt's cock throbbing in his mouth plus Kurt's taste on his tongue is enough to do him in. Sam squeezes his shaft and tugs harshly, shuttering out his orgasm, muffling his loud groans against Kurt's inner thigh.

Kurt's breathing is still uneven as Sam lies down beside him, tossing his arm over Kurt's smooth chest to pull him close, placing small kisses along Kurt's jawbone. "Was that a good enough thank you?" Sam asks once he remembers how to form words properly again.

Kurt slides his arm around Sam's waist and reaches down to squeeze his round ass. "As if you have to ask."

##

When Sam's English teacher hands him back his essay a couple of days later and there's a bright, shiny red A drawn on the coversheet, his heart suddenly feels like it's much too large for his chest. He cannot remember the last time he got an A on any assignment that depended heavily on his spelling skills; maybe he never got one until now? It feels so good, like he's overcome all his obstacles and now he can just be _normal_ and young and in love like other teenagers.

For a moment, he wonders if he's a little too old to be displaying his grades on the refrigerator; because he's pretty sure that's exactly where he wants his paper to go. Sam even knows which magnets he wants to use.

As soon as the bell rings, he rushes out of the classroom, his paper still in his hand. School's officially out, so there are lots of students out in the hallways, and Sam has to push his way past the sea of people in order to get to Kurt's locker. And once he's there, Sam literally feels like he's just traveled through a birth canal for the second time in his life.

He walks up behind Kurt who's rearranging his locker. Sam wraps his arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him close as he whispers into his ear, "Guess what?"

"You want to come over tonight?" Kurt asks sarcastically, pulling his French textbook out of his satchel.

"Well, yes, but that's not what I came to tell you," Sam says. He smiles into Kurt's hair as he lifts up his other arm, holding his essay in front of Kurt's face. "You were right."

Kurt gasps, snatching Sam's essay out of his hand. "Oh my God, Sam, you did it!" His eyes drift over the paper nearly at the speed of light, reading all the little comments that his teacher left for him. He turns around in Sam's arms, places a hand on Sam's chest and whispers, "Is there football practice after school?"

"No, Coach Beiste is letting us off the hook since it's like two degrees outside or something," Sam says, his hand wandering under the hem of Kurt's sweater, his fingers drawing light lines on the small of Kurt's back. "Why?"

"Put this in your bag, in a folder or something so you keep it neat," Kurt instructs, handing Sam's essay back to him. He watches as Sam carefully stows away his paper and zips his bag back up, and then Kurt grabs his hand and drags him down the hallway.

Sam stumbles over his feet, but manages to catch himself before he falls over. "Where are we going?"

"Boys' locker room," Kurt says simply.

What? But he just said he didn't have practice today. "Why?"

Kurt huffs and gives Sam's hand a gentle little squeeze. "You'll see."

Kurt's practically powerwalking down the hall, his eyes set and unblinking. Sam has no idea what he's up to; every time he opens his mouth to ask, Kurt just shushes him up, and Sam's not sure if he should be nervous or excited or worried or maybe a mixture of all three.

When Kurt throws the door to the room open, he drags Sam to the back corner, behind a row of lockers, beneath a light that has been burnt out ever since Sam transferred to McKinley. Kurt reluctantly places his bag on the floor and drapes his jacket over it.

"What's going on? Why are we were?" Sam asks lamely, hearing his voice echo off the tiled walls.

"I'm giving you what you want," Kurt tells him, taking a step closer to Sam, looking up demurely at him through his long lashes, slowly sliding Sam's letterman jacket off his broad shoulders. "You can think of it as a reward for getting a good grade on your paper."

Sam's eyes light up and his jaw drops a little like he's a kid on Christmas morning. He looks around the locker room to check that they're all alone before he whispers, "Here?"

Kurt shrugs his shoulders. "I know you don't like waiting," he says simply, his fingertips dragging up Sam's jeaned thighs before he finds his belt buckle, working it open slowly, pulling it away from Sam's body. "Unless you don't want it now?"

_As if._

Sam eases Kurt up against the nearest wall, dropping his hands down to the hem of Kurt's sweater, frantically trying to pull it up over his head. But the top is a little confusing to him; it's got buttons in weird places and it's a little asymmetrical and it's _not moving _and Sam's damn near growling out of his frustration over a fucking shirt.

"Careful, it's Christian Dior," Kurt says. Sam only knows how to remove regular t-shirts properly, but anything more complicated than that and it's fighting a losing battle.

Quickly, Sam jerks his head around, looking back into the locker room, clearly thinking that someone by the name of Christian Dior just walked in on them. "Where?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, let me do it," Kurt huffs, removing his sweater easily before he gingerly folds it up and places it on top of his jacket. While he's at it, he pulls off his skinny jeans because he knows that Sam will probably get too aggravated with them being so tight and therefore too hard to remove.

Kurt's lithe frame and soft muscles produce a low groan out of Sam before he captures Kurt's lips with his own. Kurt's lips are so soft, tasting faintly of his melon lip balm, and they're warm. And for a moment, Sam thinks he'd just be happy standing there, kissing Kurt while he's mostly naked in the boys' locker room, his precious clothes scattered across the floor. But when Kurt's hand comes up to brush over the front of his jeans before he works open the button and the zipper, he quickly changes his mind.

Somehow he manages to get Kurt completely out of his briefs while Kurt yanks Sam's jeans and boxers to down around his calves. Sam lifts Kurt up a little, pushing him into the wall for support as he grabs Kurt's thighs one at a time, hitching Kurt's legs around his waist. He slides two fingers into Kurt's mouth, not even having to prompt him to suck on them at this point. Kurt's usually really picky about what they use as lubricant; it can't just be the regular stuff, no, it has to be the one that's warming or flavored or some other shit like that. But all they have is saliva, which is damn near useless, but it's better than nothing.

He pulls his fingers out of Kurt's mouth, bringing his hand down in between Kurt's thighs, smearing the saliva over the crevice of Kurt's ass, and then sliding one finger past the tight ring of muscle. Kurt hisses against the crook of Sam's neck, digging his nails into Sam's shoulders. Sam places a gentle kiss to the expanse of skin just behind Kurt's ear, keeping entirely still until Kurt gives him the go-ahead only a moment later. Sam pushes his finger in further, opening Kurt as he goes, and when Kurt digs his nails into Sam's tanned skin again, it's not because he hurts, but because he wants more.

Sam pushes his other wetted finger into Kurt, penetrating the warm depth all the way up to his knuckles. He twists his fingers around as best as he could, still unsure if he's even close to that spot that makes Kurt practically cry out in pleasure until Kurt actually does it, smacking his hand over his mouth just in case there are any stragglers outside the locker room.

"Just…do it already be-before someone _comes_," Kurt whines against Sam's heated skin.

"You mean before _you _come?" Sam asks teasingly, brushing that spot again before he removes his fingers, spits into his palm and spreads it over his cock, positioning himself at Kurt's entrance. Kurt's tight muscle convulses around the head of Sam's cock, and it's almost enough to make him come. He pushes in slowly, deep enough that that head is encompassed entirely and the heat Kurt's channel produces is searing, hot like a flame, and so intense that Sam's mind goes hazy.

He shuts his eyes tightly as he presses forward into Kurt slowly until he's sheathed balls-deep into his ass. And it's hot and tight and completely amazing because anyone can walk in on them at any moment and they'd see Sam fucking his beautiful boyfriend and he really doesn't give a fuck. Kurt's cock is hard and throbbing against him, fluid leaking out of the tip onto Sam's shirt

Sam circles his fingers around Kurt's shaft as he thrusts up, and Kurt's heels dig into the back of Sam's thighs. Kurt's hips are caught in the pace that Sam's setting, pushing back and up into Sam's hand. And he's crying out again, not bothering to try and shut himself up this time, his head tossed back, eyes closed, and mouth open wide as he stills then trembles. Kurt's tight muscle closes around him like a vise, and Sam bucks up one last time until his orgasm washes over him, hard and fast and unrelenting, coming in quick spurts deep inside of Kurt.

He presses soft kisses up Kurt's neck and then one on his lips as he gently lowers Kurt onto his feet. The hair that frames Sam's face is wet with sweat, and his legs feel like jelly, so he knows that they're going to be sore in the next day, possibly preventing him from doing his morning workout routine, but he doesn't even care.

"I need to make A's on my essays more often," Sam says, his voice still a little breathless.


End file.
